Strangers
by Aislinn Cailin
Summary: After facing utter dissapointment at not seeing the one man she couldn't keep her mind off of for five years, Usagi turns her attentions to a mysterious stranger. Fate, of course, has a cruel way of twisting their lives together. 3 Shot, Usagi & Mamoru
1. Part One: Drinks

**Strangers**

_By Aislinn Cailin_

**Author's Note: **_Strangers_ is a three-part short fic, centering around the typical Usagi/Mamoru separation/reunion concept. I can assure you won't be done to your standards; it was something I wrote because I was utterly parched due to my lack of creative writing. Therefore, I really have no patience whatsoever to edit. I might fix all this up later, but for now, it's my first draft.

Nevertheless, I'm always eager for suggestions. The rest of this fic should come out in the rest of April/early May, but no promises.

That being said, I hope you enjoy whatever meagre amount of pleasure I might have managed to squeeze into this fic. Reviews are appreciated.

---

**Part One: Drinks**

Usagi excused herself from the group, and stepped out of the crowd of unruly dancers. It was no surprise that, as usual, Rei, Makoto, and Minako had boundless energy, swaying and shaking their bodies to the wild frenzy of the dance beat, while timid Ami was still back at the booth, chatting complacently with Motoki.

Usagi herself had been part of the avid dancers, but exhaustion from travel, made her tired far more easily than the rest of them. Well, that and the one thing she wouldn't admit to herself. No, it wasn't because of _that_ she was tired. Scanning the crowd for interesting people cannot make you tired.

Nevertheless, her step had lost a bit of its spring, her composure a little more dejected. Of course, one could easily pass this for exhaustion of dance due to the slight layer of sweat and ruffled hair. As she made her way to the bar, she pried off the scrunchie that was stuck to her ponytail, and shook out her hair. The blonde strands of silk, lengthy as ever, fell loose. She gathered a few strands from the side, took out a clip, and arranged it haphazardly, giving herself a casual appearance. It's not as if the person she was all dressed up to meet was there anyway.

The music drifted away when she reached the counter. A waitress, tired by the looks of it but still forcing a smile, rushed over. Usagi was about to order something when another burly voice answered before her.

"Another Scotch," he said, and quite unkindly at that.

Usagi studied the man who had spoken. He sported a sharp blazer over a brown t-shirt and black pants. He would have been the perfect picture of elegance had it not been for his tousled hair, his sunglasses, and his slightly drunk look.

_Sunglasses?_ Usagi thought incredulously. The place was dark enough for the both of them!

The waitress slid the man his drink and then stared at Usagi, waiting for her answer.

"Martini," she answered. "Dry."

She sat down, a seat in between her and the man. His strange behaviour drew her to him, but she didn't think he'd appreciate the sudden appearance of a stranger. The waitress placed Usagi her drink but she hardly noticed it. Instead, she watched the man slowly grab the glass, stare into its depths, and then drown it in one shot. He placed it next to two other empty Scotch glasses.

"Taking it quite heavily, aren't you?" She had to raise her voice a bit for him to be heard.

He beckoned the waitress for another Scotch before turning around, again with that same, deliberate delayed reaction. Even through his glasses she could feel him studying her.

"Are you the angel sent to take me up?"

For a second, the response unnerved her, and she thought he might be one of those perverts who try to attract girls with their mysterious appearance. But when he didn't make any further comment or gesture, she realised the quite simple fact: he was drunk.

Smiling, she moved to the seat next to him.

"No," she said. Deciding to test him to his level of consciousness, she then playfully asked, "Do you use that line on every girl you see?"

He shook his head. Gripping the glass the waitress had given him, he slowly pointed to her hair. "I've never seen such a blonde."

Now, Usagi could have taken that comment the wrong way, but good-natured as she was, she let out a giggle instead. "Now _that's_ something I've never heard before. Most people attribute my blondeness to my stupidity."

He shrugged and turned around, ready to devour his next drink. "You don't seem that stupid."

_Perhaps he isn't so drunk after all_, she thought. Or, in any case, his speech didn't let it on.

Before he had a chance to raise the Scotch to his lips, Usagi enclosed her hand around his and brought it down, softly prying his fingers from the glass.

"That's enough," she said gently. "You've had three already."

He turned to look at her again. For a moment, she thought he'd refuse and make a swipe for the drink again, but then his shoulders sagged.

Usagi scooted her chair closer to him, feeling that she wouldn't be heard lest she speak as loud as she had been.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here without her girlfriends anyway?" he asked, staring her up and down unabashedly. "Don't you have someone to meet?"

"I could ask the same." Not minding the stranger's looks – what could she expect? She had dressed to impress — she scrutinized him the same way. Even a blind person could agree that he was quite good looking.

"What's a handsome guy like you doing here without a girlfriend? You two have a fight?" she teased.

It was then that she realised that she was still holding his hand. Quickly, she let go, blushing.

The stranger shook his head, but said nothing.

Usagi tried again. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know." He tried to make a grab for the Scotch now, but she hastily moved it away. "Since seven? Eight?"

She glanced at her watch; it was a quarter to twelve.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

Slowly, he nodded.

"Who?"

He whispered something.

"What?" She moved her stool closer to his. She caught a waft of his scent – a strong, musky aroma, tinged with body spray and Scotch. Where had she smelled that before? Suddenly, she missed his hand.

He looked towards the dance floor, his face shadowed with a painful, wistful. Turning back around, he sighed. "No one. It doesn't matter."

Usagi was bewildered. She didn't know what to say now. Obviously, she couldn't pry into this man's personal life, but she didn't feel right just letting it drop.

She used this opportunity to take her hands in his again. She knew she was being utterly foolish; she had hardly known this man for half an hour. But she couldn't ignore the immediate warmth that zinged through her hands and arms, all the way to the abdomen, nor the attraction that compelled her to delve into this man's deepest and darkest secrets, and find out all about his life.

Well, maybe it was a good thing. It would keep her mind off _him_.

"You can tell me. She must be someone important."

The man did not miss this gesture either. He stroked her hands slowly, and relished in the feeling. They were wonderfully soft. He looked at the girl. She was so strange. She was the only one who had shown such curiosity about his life.

The movement in her hair drew her to him further. He wanted so badly to touch it but was scared what the girl might say.

Instead, he looked back up at her eyes. It took his breath away to see her looking at him with such concern.

"Do you …" he said cautiously "… want to get a booth?"


	2. Part Two: Disaster

**Strangers**

_By Aislinn Cailin_

**Author's Note: **Yay, I finally got this up! Sorry, I'm one of those people who have AWESOME ideas for stories at the beginning, and a week down the road, completely forgets what angle they're going at.

Nevertheless, I really do want to get this done, so stay tuned for part three sometime during the summer. For real, this time.

Reviews are love. Thanks for reading:)

---

**Part Two: Disaster**

Get a booth? Usagi took a quick look back at where she had left Motoki and the girls. Normally, she wasn't someone to exercise such an act of caution, but something felt different here. She didn't want the other four following her, or wondering about her. She wanted it to be a night of just him and her alone.

No, they would never find her in the crowd, right? Especially if they were in a booth.

She turned her eyes back on the man, and saw him studying her. Though he looked casual, she knew he was still judging her character, and she felt a bit nervous under such scrutiny.

Nevertheless, he was still waiting for a reply. Slowly, she nodded. His face seemed to relax a bit, and then he got up, taking hold of her hand and leading her away. The electricity rushed back into Usagi's body and she felt hot to the touch. Her body radiated heat, but she wouldn't let go of his hand; she thrived on that kind of heat.

The two of them swerved in and out of the crowd until coming upon a table at the back of the dimly lit hall. It was well cushioned and dark, because one of the booth's lights had gone out. Usagi slid into the soft leather couch across from him. She flushed a bit when she noticed that he still held onto her hand, but hell, if he wasn't going to say anything about it, she certainly wasn't going to bring it up.

She saw – no, rather, felt – him staring at her through his glasses. She couldn't help but be thrilled and nervous at the same time to be under such intense attention.

"So," she said, squeezing his hand tightly, "who was the girl?"

-

Mamoru sighed and slowly twisted his hand out of hers. He missed the feel of her soft skin, but somehow, thinking about Usagi was like pouring cold water all over his body. It sobered him like nothing else ever hard.

He leaned back on the couch and stared at her. "An angel."

He watched the girl, willing for her to show some sign of emotion, but she gave none, only stared at him and waited patiently for him to continue.

"She was everything. She was light and love and laughter. She was fun and free and beautiful. She was perfect."

-

With each word, Usagi felt the breath being sucked out of her. She did not believe such a woman so perfect to exist, and wondered how in the world she would compete with her.

Her conscience suddenly rose up to scream at her, telling her she hardly knew this man man, that she shouldn't be thinking about him this way, and all that crap she had long ago learned to ignore. Years of experience had taught Usagi to know right away what she wanted. Her intuition was complete. And, unknown to her as he was, she felt pulled, tugged to this stranger who made her long for the one person she had tried so hard to forget. The one person she thought, hoped she would see again.

"What happened?" she felt her self asking, feeling her jealousy increase with every passing second. She couldn't hate the girl – no, hate never came easily to Usagi. But Usagi had accepted her jealous, possessive nature long before, and she was definitely jealous.

-

Mamoru was silent. He didn't want to tell this girl about how he had lost her time and time again, without learning his lesson. It was too humiliating.

"She went away," he stated simply.

"Oh," was all the girl said. The way she said it, her tone, was a mixture of bewilderment, excitement, and sadness. Where all these emotions came from, save the last, he could not guess.

When she was silent for a while, he spoke again. "Have you ever loved someone so much that you're scared to think about them? Because you know that's all it ever will be – a thought, a dream."

Now, she laughed, and it unnerved him to hear such a bitter chuckle from an angel. "Every day."

It was Mamoru's turn to be surprised, and he felt the same jealously rising up that Usagi had felt a moment before.

"Who?"

He heard her sigh. "It's not important. He … well, he and I are from different worlds, to say the least." She laughed again, a choking laugh, a laugh laced with regret and sorrow. "Sometimes, I wonder how it's fair. To love someone so, so much, and not have him notice you in the least. Not even have him come for your damn reunion, when you haven't met him for nearly a lifetime!"

_A lifetime._ That's how long it felt like since he had seen Usagi. Immediately, he felt a huge rush of guilt for not going to Usagi's return party. But what's the point of going when she was just going to be ripped away from him again, returning to her little multimillion dollar business in New York next week?

"Do you still love her?"

Mamoru stared at the girl, and without hesitation, answered, "Yes."

If he didn't know any better, he thought the girl mig have looked crestfallen. "It must be very strong then."

"What is?"

"Your love."

Mamoru nodded. "That's what I'd like to believe."

"What do you mean? Any love like that could last a lifetime."

-

Usagi couldn't help but feel more and more jealous, and outraged at the girl's stupidity. Why wasn't she with him? Didn't she see how lucky she was?

The man ran a hand through his silky black hair. She longed to brush that strand out of his eyes.

-

"What really happened?" She was staring at him now, and reached out to grasp his hand again. The gentle tug on it acted like a tug on the barrier Mamoru had put up and the information came spilling out.

"The first time I saw her with someone else, I almost smashed my coffee cup against the counter. I swore … I swore to tell her next time, when they broke up. I mean, of course they were going to break up, she was meant to be with _me_, not _him_. Never him."

"But …" And now he took a deep breath. "I couldn't. They broke up, and she cried, and cried, and oh, I just wanted to smash that kid into pieces, but I couldn't. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't do anything. All I could to was stand and watch and have my conscience screaming at me for being such a fool. I've never been a bigger coward. _Ever._"

He expected to see her look at him with a sense of disgust, or loathing, or scoff at him, but she didn't. Her expression was the same as ever – kind, understanding, willing him to go on.

"I had so many opportunities. It was as if heaven wanted us to be together, by God, I could have told her so many times. When she was crying, when I gave her a ride home, when … but I didn't! I didn't, I'm such a coward. And I can't face her again. Not knowing everything I've lost, everything I'll ever lose. What's the point of seeing her again when I know she'll just go away, go back to where she bult her own life. But I love her … I love her so much it scares me."

-

Usagi wanted to cry. She didn't know why. Maybe it was because it was so utterly heartbreaking, to know what a state he was in. Or maybe because she knew for sure now that he and she could never be together, because he was already destined to be with someone else.

Or maybe because it mirrored her life perfectly, her state of mind, her cowardliness. Except, in her case, she had been the one to go away, to decide never to see Mamoru again … and even then, she didn't have the courage to tell him.

"I —"

"Shit, _shit_!" Mamoru saw Motoki approaching from far off. He went still for a second before deciding on a course of action.

Usagi, following Mamoru's gaze, saw Motoki as well. She furrowed her brows in confusion: how did this man know Motoki? Before she could utter a sound, a strong hand wrapped itself around her wrist. She looked up to see Mamoru standing before her, a determined expression on his face.

"Come on," he said. "We're getting out of here."

Normally, Usagi would've questioned such an order, but the tingling sensations running up and down her arm and the subsequent light-headedness that followed overthrew any common sense she had left. She got up, allowing him to lead.

The two of them weaved in and out of the crowd of dancers. Usagi couldn't see much, and wondered how the man would be able to with his sunglasses, but he seemed to know where he was going. They paused for a minute, and he looked around hastily. He looked back, and they both saw Motoki still hot on their trail. He was shouting something, but neither could hear it for the life of them.

Suddenly, he darted left. Usagi almost stumbled at the sudden movement, but righted herself. They entered a little pathway in the wall, an incredibly small space compared to the size of the bar, with a janitor's closet looming up ahead. Usagi could touch both ends of the walls by sticking her elbows out. They went to the deepest corner of the hallway, where the light hardly entered.

He swiftly turned around, almost knocking into Usagi. His grip on her hand never faltered.

"Sorry, there was someone I really couldn't deal with right now."

She could feel his hot breath on her face, damp and musky, tinged with alcohol. It sent shivers up and down her spine. The meaning of his words slipped by her but she nodded absentmindedly.

"He'd try to make me meet up with the girl."

_The girl_. Suddenly, the illusion was shattered. Usagi blinked, crash-landing back on reality. _He already _has_ someone else_. Well, perhaps not _has_, per se, but enough to make her realize that their lives would never be intertwined.

She pulled her hand away from his grasp and stepped back, feeling all too cold. The action did not go unnoticed.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." Trying to avoid the subject, she looked around and spotted the janitor's closet for the first time. She motioned to that with her head. "Why don't we go in there? He'll probably never catch us."

Instantly, she regretted her words. Going in there would mean being closer to him, and she couldn't really bear that right now.

Instead, the man managed a wry smile. "Hiding in the janitor's closet? That could lead to trouble."

Usagi smiled tightly but did not pursue the subject any further. Instead, she turned around and leaned against the wall, appreciating its chill against the flat of her back. She looked towards the dance floor, wishing she could go back outside and lose herself in the music again. Why was it that every single person she felt a remote attraction for ended up being in love with someone else?

The presence of the dark figure made her look up. He was standing there, looking down at her with a frown. He gently took her hands again.

"It's your turn. I told you all about myself. What's wrong?"

Usagi looked down. "Nothing," she mumbled. She looked up and smiled brightly. "I'm just tired."

_What a dumb excuse!_ Her mind screamed. The man seemed to pick up on it too because he smiled. "Of course. Famous excuse number one: the fatigue."

Usagi wished he would let go of her hands. She didn't like the way it was spreading heat, all the way to her breasts and down to the pit of her abdomen. It was very hard to breathe.

She looked up at the man to see if he had noticed. He was staring straight at her. No, not at _her … _but rather, her hair.

He loosened his grip on one of her hands, and slowly extended his hands, giving her plenty of time to pull away should she want to. Usagi didn't object. Carefully, he wound his fingers around a few strands and sighed, closing his eyes.

"Silk …" he murmured. "I've been wanting to know what it felt like for the longest time."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered touching hair like this. He ran his fingers through it, relishing at the feeling, and brought it back up, reaching behind the woman's head and taking out the clip that held it together. The hair held together fell back out into its natural place, framing her head in such a way that he was absolutely convinced that she was an angel.

Usagi sighed at his touch. It was so gentle, so soft, the way he caressed her hair. She closed her eyes too, and dropped her head back against the wall. At that moment, she decided not to care. Even if he was with another person, for one night, just one night, he belonged to her.

Opening her eyes again, she was surprised to see the proximity of their faces. If she just moved a bit, their foreheads would be touching.

But those glasses! Those glasses annoyed her to no end. Oh, she desperately wanted to take them off and see his eyes for once.

She lifted up a hand and bravely touched his cheek. Her touch left Mamoru's skin burning. Before he could object, her hands were placed firmly around the arm of his glasses and she yanked them off.

Blue clashed with blue. Usagi's breath caught in her throat. Those eyes! She knew those eyes! But before she could complete her train of thought, hot, soft lips collided with hers, kissing her urgently, passionately. The kiss was like an oasis to both their bodies, parched from not being able to act on the attraction they both felt at the first meeting, the attraction that had to be put off for so long. Usagi kissed him back with equal ferocity, wrapping her arms around his neck, each of them pressing their bodies closer together. Both couldn't help feeling that their clothes were such a big obstacle proving so unnecessary. Their skin burned wherever they touched. They needed to be closer, needed to be pressed together, to be bonded together. Mamoru grabbed her by the waist, and hauled her up, digging her body into his, pressing her harder against the wall. Their lips were hot and swollen, and both were struggling for breath, but they couldn't stop. Mamoru moved away from her lips, kissing her chin, her cheeks, her nose, and coming down to her neck, all the while pushing her tighter into him. He held her with one hand, and slipped the other under her shirt, playing across her stomach and her back. She moaned, the sound coming from deep within her abdomen, low and guttural, and it led him on further. He pressed his erection into her waist, grinding into her petite body. He thought his head would explode when he felt her hastily remove his blazer and get to work on his buttons.

"— swear I saw him go in here."

Usagi and Mamoru broke off from their kiss hastily, looking to see an astonished Motoki staring at them, his jaw hanging open. Mamoru gently placed Usagi on the floor. Nevertheless, their arms were still wrapped tightly around each other.

Motoki then broke out into a huge grin.

"Finally! God you two are so _stubborn_, I can't believe it took this long!"

"Motoki, what the hell are you talking about?" Mamoru asked, clearly annoyed by being interrupted.

Usagi whipped her head towards Mamoru. "How do _you_ know Motoki?"

Four girls came into view behind the blonde man, their chattering stopped abruptly at the sight of the two in the shadows.

"Oh, God."

"This can't be happening."

"Five _years_!"

The last one was Minako.

"What the hell are you guys going on about?" Usagi snapped. "Five years since _what_?"

"Hey," said Makoto, grinning evilly, "Chiba Mamoru and Usagi has a nice ring to it, right guys?"

It was like a bomb had been dropped. Everyone else in the room disappeared. Mamoru looked back at Usagi with wide, astonished eyes, staring at everything from her hair to her body, to her face again. Usagi finally realized where she had seen those blue eyes before.

But it didn't last long. Mamoru's expression soon turned to that of cold, bitter anger. He let go of his arms around her and stepped out of her hold.

"Where are you —"

"Did you have fun?" he asked, his voice dripping with hatred. "Enjoy your life, Usagi-san."


	3. Part Three: Destiny

**Strangers**

_By Aislinn Cailin_

**Author's Note: **Finally finished! Extreme apologies for the long wait. Please review, if you have the time.

---

**Part Three: Destiny**

There was that annoyingly relentless knock at that door again. Usagi tried to focus on her cooking, slicing the carrot into little cylinders, so that they looked like big, chunky orange beads.

"Usagi?" said Minako through the door. "Honey, are you in there?"

_Go away_, Usagi thought, desperately trying to focus on her carrots again.

"Usagi, open up," Ami said. "This isn't healthy."

_Sure it is. Carrots are an essential part of any diet._

"Usagi!" That was Rei's sharp shrill, and Usagi almost smiled to hear her annoyed tone. It mirrored Usagi's own. "Open up right now, or Mako-chan and I will bust this open."

Sighing, Usagi dropped the knife and wiped her hands on a towel. She opened the door just as Rei was poised to knock one last time.

"Hi guys!" Usagi said in an overly bright, cheerful way. "Come in! What brings you here?"

Rei rolled her eyes before she stalked in, the other three girls following suit. Usagi let the annoyance mould her face one last time as she closed the door, before she arranged her expression into that_I'm-fine-don't-worry-about-me_ look.

When she turned back around, the other four had all sat down in her living room. Usagi's temper flared when she saw Ami sitting on her favourite couch, but she forced the anger down. _Calm yourself,_ she commanded. _Stuff like this never bothered you before._

Well, that was _before_. Before any of this ever happened, before her friends tried to take on the roles of counsellor or psychologist.

Smiling far too much, Usagi sat casually in one of the empty chairs.

"So!" she exclaimed. "What brings you guys all here? Are we doing anything today?"

She watched the other four exchange glances and continue to stare at her. Usagi looked at each one of them in turn, never dropping her guise. This was getting very annoying. She wished they would just speak up – or better, not bother her at all.

"What?"

"Usagi …" Ami began cautiously.

"Look, we know you're still upset about Mamoru, okay?" Rei said baldly. Makoto shot her a look, but Rei continued on, either oblivious, or ignoring it. "But you can't stay cooped up here all day!"

"Rei's right, Usagi," Minako said. "Forget about him. Or at least, try to talk to him."

"Minako-chan!" the other three choursed.

"That's not part of the plan!" Makoto hissed.

"Well, if she can't get over him, she might as well try to make things better!" Minako countered.

Usagi sighed and got up. Let the four of them battle it out, it's not like they were letting her speak anyway. She made her way back to the kitchen, and apparently without getting noticed, because Rei, Ami, and Makoto were still busy throttling Minako. She had finished cutting her carrots, chopping the mushrooms, and putting the frying pan to heat, before, she heard the expected, "Hey, where's Usagi?"

"Didn't she get up to go somewhere?" Ami asked.

"Oh, nice job there genius!" Rei snapped sarcastically. "Ever thought to notice where she _was_ going?"

Usagi winced while she put chunks of butter in the frying pan. That was cold, even for Rei.

"Hey, don't pick on Ami-chan!" Minako said indignantly. "It's not like you noticed where she was going either!"

"Ami's supposed to be the observant one, isn't she?"

"Well, how hard is it for _you_ to observe where she was going too?"

She heard someone step into the kitchen. Usagi didn't bother to turn around; she continued to sauté her mushrooms, carrots, and onions. She sprinkled a dash of pepper and a bit of seasoning before mixing the vegetables around.

"Hey, I didn't know you cooked."

Usagi smiled in spite of herself. Of course it would be Makoto to check the kitchen first.

"There's a lot of things you learn when you're living by yourself in New York," Usagi said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. She turned around for a moment. "Especially without Mako-chan's infamous cuisines."

Makoto sniffed the air delicately. "Mushrooms … carrots … onions?"

Usagi laughed. "Wow are you really that good?"

The bigger girl grinned. "What can you expect? I'm a chef. But what are you making with the veggies anyway?"

"Well, I was going for a lasagna, but I guess I only have time for an omelet now."

Makoto sauntered over to the fridge. "What else do you have in — woah!" Makoto stared at the contents in the fridge. Salads, main dishes, desserts, home-made fruit juices, all topped with the many, many raw ingredients … Makoto doubted that she herself had this much stuff in _her_fridge.

"Usagi, are you planning to donate to a homeless shelter?"

Usagi came over, now with a totally blank expression on her face, and found the carton of eggs. It was around this time that the other three girls came in, and saw the same terrifying site as Makoto. Each let loose their own cries of exclamation.

"I just have a lot of spare time on my hands," Usagi said, going over and starting to crack the eggs in a big bowl.

"I think she's turned into a mini-you, Mako-chan!" Minako breathed, drooling at the sheer amount of food, yet terrified at Usagi's obsession at the same time.

"Usagi." That was Rei.

"Hmm?" Usagi didn't turn back around, she just kept on cracking her eggs, and mixing the gold with the silver. She poured the mixture into her other frying pan.

"Usagi!" She grabbed the blonde by her hand and spun her around. "Usagi, you have to stop this!"

"Rei, let go!" Usagi whined, trying to pry out of her hold. "You're hurting me! And my omletes—"

Rei slapped her across the cheek. It was like a cold, rude awakening. "Snap out if Usagi! You can't let the man affect you like this!"

"He's not," Usagi said desperately, but the wall she had been trying to put up for so long was instantly shattered. She watched all four faces stare at her, and she didn't know if she was trying to convince them, or herself. "I'm not … he doesn't … I don't …"

And then the tears came, fast and thick. The tears that she only allowed herself to overwhelm her once, during that one night, came back, and the sob welled up in her throat, and she let out that deep, heart wrenching cry of a lover losing her soul mate. She leaned into Rei's grasp and cried and cried, and she thought she felt the other three come over and encircle her in a group hug, but nothing could stop the black pit she felt herself falling into once again.

She completely missed the looks of determination and certainty that flashed across the other four faces.

-

Mamoru had only been home for about an hour. He had just settled into his comfortable routine of reading the paper, and then having a quick dinner when the doorbell rang.

For a moment, he was startled, and glanced at the clock. Who would be calling at ten at night?

Annoyed at being interrupted, he made his way to the door and looked in through the peephole. Motoki stood there, a bit nervous.

That was even more surprising. He saw Motoki every morning in the arcade when Mamoru picked up his morning coffee before making his way to the hospital. What could Motoki possibly have to say to him that couldn't wait until the next day?

He quickly unlocked the door, wondering why Motoki looked so worried, and then he suddenly knew the answer. Standing behind him were the four girls he had never hoped to meet again.

_Forced me,_ Motoki mouthed, before being jolted into Mamoru's apartment by Rei, who was followed by Minako, Makoto, and then Ami. None of the girls, not even Ami, looked the least bit apologetic.

What was even more odd was that each of them was carrying some large bowl that they placed on his spotless coffee table. Ami unwrapped the saran wrap of one of the bowls, took the spoon out of it, and before Mamoru could even ask what she was doing, stuck the spoon straight into his mouth.

Mamoru almost coughed out the food, before allowing himself to breathe, chew, and swallow. He ignored how absolutely wonderful that tasted.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Good, isn't it?" Ami asked, with so much malice in her voice he was almost afraid. Usually, Rei possessed such anger. "I'll give you three chances to guess who made this, _and_ the mountains of food sitting in her fridge, and the first two chances don't count."

_Usagi?_ A wry smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that she can cook all of this."

"This is no time to joke, Mamoru-san!" Ami said sharply.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is," he said, irritated. "You barge into _my_ house, uninvited, bring in food that could possibly contain God-knows-what, and why? To lecture me about some girl I could really care less about right now."

"Yeah, I guess it's too bad that Usagi cares so much about _you_ then," Makoto said quietly.

Mamoru was caught off guard. "What?" he barely managed to whisper.

"Oh, are you honestly that blind, Mamoru-san?" Rei asked.

The anger rose from the pit of his stomach, slowly, surely. He kept his face as blank as ever, but he clenched his fist, his veins there near bursting, as he listened to Rei speak.

"I don't know what kind of a trick you've been pulling, or what happened with you and Usagi but—"

"That's right," he said, "you don't."

"Yeah but—"

"No. No buts. I am sick and tired of this! I am sick of you girls lecturing me, telling me what to do, what to say. The only reason I came to that stupid reunion was because of _you_ four, I hope you realise that. So, indirectly, it's your fault any of this ever happened!

"You. All of you." He stared at each one of them in turn. "All four of you, you're so full of yourselves. What the hell do you think you're doing? Who the hell do you think you are to parade around my life as if it mattered to you, as if you cared? You're only worried about _Usagi_, what Usagi will think, what Usagi will feel. So that's exactly what you should do: go comfort _Usagi_. But please, please, don't for a minute, for a _second_ pretend that this has anything to do with concern for _me_. So I am asking you with all of my patience to leave. Now."

Mamoru was satisfied to see the alarm and shock on his audience's faces, including Motoki. He closed in for the final blow.

"I won't go see her. I won't apologise for whatever you think I should apologise for. This won't have a lasting moral effect on my conscience. Don't you get it? I'm done, I'm not doing this anymore, I am _sick_ of it all. I'm sick of caring about something that's not …" He shook his head, and then scoffed bitterly. "I'm sick of taking action because I've been bullied by her four friends. So do yourselves a favour and go find Usagi a guy who will be as submissive as you wish him to be, because it is not and will never be me."

He saw all four of them exchange glances again. Before they could formulate a new plan of attack, he took two quick strides to the door and opened it. "We are finished."

He stared at them, each directly in the eye, willing them to dispute. The girls sat still a few more moments before meekly getting up and filing out the door. Rei, Ami, Makoto.

Minako was the last one to leave. Just as she was out the threshold, she turned around. "Fine, you're right. You're absolutely right. We care more about Usagi than you do. Can you blame us? We're her friends, not yours. It's just a shame that you can't, that you_choose_ not to make any of this work out. And I'm not speaking for her, I'm not speaking for you, I'm speaking for this."

She held up something with two fingers. Maybe it was a trick of the light, maybe he was hallucinating, maybe she was a magician, but he thought, he almost saw a silver thread, as bright and vibrant as moonlight, attached to his soul. It wasn't hard to guess where the string lead, who it tied him to. But in that same moment it was gone, and it looked like Minako was touching plain air.

"Did you see it?" She seemed so genuinely concerned that it startled Mamoru. "That's what I see every day. I'm just … it's just not right being cut off like that." And without another word, she turned around and left.

Mamoru sighed, all the energy gone out of him. He closed the door, leaned against it for a while, and turned around.

When he immediately straightened again. Motoki was still sitting on the couch, watching him intently.

"Please, Motoki," Mamoru said, desperation creeping into his voice. "Please, don't you lecture me too."

"All right." The blonde man said no more as he watched Mamoru fling himself into a chair opposite him and run a hand through his face.

_So much for no 'lasting moral effect'._ Mamoru looked up, and saw Motoki still watching him. The silence unnerved him more than anything.

"Look, if you have to say something, just say it!" Mamoru snapped.

Motoki gave him one long, inquiring look before getting up. He grabbed his jacket from where he had left it on the couch and made his way to the door. Mamoru sighed again and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Mamoru?" He looked up wearily to see Motoki standing with the door open, just as Minako had, barely out of the apartment. "She leaves this Sunday."

Mamoru nodded, and watched as Motoki closed the door behind him. Once again, Mamoru let himself sink into that deep abyss of confusion and despair.

He almost wished they _had_ lectured him. Almost.

-

The next few days were a countdown to Mamoru's impending doom. He found himself wanting to think about Usagi and not wanting to think about her at the same time. Sometimes, it was a relief to get called in to work, to have to exhaust so much energy that he couldn't bare to think about anything else during and after his on-calls. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit depressed that that was all his life had become: a never ending chase after work and coffee, hardly a life at all. At least, whenever he thought about Usagi, he had something to hope for, someone to worry and care about. And that was both scary and exhilarating at the same time.

He really did consider speaking to her, perhaps sorting all this out. But he couldn't; some irascible anger suppressed him whenever he thought about that eventful night. Why had she lied to him? Why had she pretended to not know who he was? He paused to look at himself in the window of the shop he had just passed by. A weary man dressed in a sober green jacket stared back. No, he did not believe himself to have changed so much that she couldn't recognize him. Heck, he doubted anything about him had changed at all, save the few wrinkles that had seeped up during his tolling career.

Besides, he had poured his heart out to her! That's what angered him most of all. He had told her everything, _everything_, and she acted so nonchalant, so calm about it all. Not a flash of emotion. God, he wanted to bash his head against a wall for making such a stupid, stupid mistake.

And then she had the nerve to kiss him! Even if he _had_ been the one to kiss her first, she kissed him back, which was practically the same thing. He bet she felt some huge gust of satisfaction at knowing that he couldn't resist her, whether she was Usagi, or just a passing stranger.

God, he was so _stupid_! And what had he got in return for spilling his soul to her? A confession that she was in love with someone too. Well, at least she could never have her love either, the same way he couldn't have her. _He and I are from different worlds._ He wondered how much trouble she must have gone through, to orchestrate the breaking of his heart so perfectly. She must have started it when she first met him, when she first ensnared him with that golden hair and hauntingly beautiful eyes.

And now she was pretending like she cared about him. She was probably weeping all over her friends, drawing sympathy from their pathetic hearts too. _I guess it's too bad that Usagi cares so much about _you_ then. _Mamoru snorted with disbelief. Yeah, right. She was probably just sad that she had lost another one of her boy-toys, someone else who was absolutely mesmerized by her. He wondered how many more guys she had managed to capture into her net back in New York.

A part of Mamoru, the sensible part, told him he was being completely irrational. No, Usagi wasn't the kind of person who would play with hearts. At least, she wasn't way back when he first met her. She was an angel; angels aren't so superficial. Still, then, why did Ami and Minako say she was so upset? He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked up at the rising sun. Surely, she couldn't be — no, he did not, he would not allow himself to hope something so dangerous, something so completely untrue. She was probably just sad that someone hated her … she was always the type of person to care about everyone's opinion.

Then, almost, as if called out from the deepest corner of his heart, he saw her walking. For a moment, with the rising sun shining off her hair, it looked like she was staring straight at him. But when she came over the little rise of the road, he noticed she was looking down, her expression almost as forlorn as his. It was entirely possible she hadn't seen him yet.

He stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her, her shadow trailing behind. He realised they were on the same path, that if she kept going, she would bump into him, the same way she had a thousand times in that past lifetime.

Still, he watched her. A part of him wished she _would_ bump into him, just to recreate that scene in his memory he had played over and over again these past five years. But she never did. She came to a halt when she saw his shadow stained across the sidewalk. Her eyes roved from his feet, to his upper body, to his face.

He saw her gasp slightly when she realised he had been watching her all along. Mamoru's eyes were carefully cold and calculating, but really, he found he couldn't breathe. His heart was hammering painfully against his ribs, and in that one moment, in that one snapshot of his life, he knew everything he needed to know.

He loved her. He still loved her. Oh God, it hurt to know how much he loved her. He hadn't forgotten her face, her hair, the curves of her body at all, and he found it hard to believe he hadn't recognized her that day at the bar. He wanted to run up to her and share that immensely passionate kiss with her one more time, feel the velvet of her skin again. It almost brought tears to his eyes to know how much, how painfully, he still loved her, how she had the same ferocious hold on him she had had five years ago. And to know that all he could do was stand there, and do absolutely nothing. Because she had deceived him. Because she had already lost her heart to someone else. Because she would never feel the same way again. Ever.

"Mamoru-san." Her voice was so small, so puny, it was as if she was almost afraid to speak his name. She gave him a nervous smile, a mix between apprehension and joy.

Mamoru did not smile back. He simply nodded. "Usagi-san."

"How are you?" It was that same tone again, like she was scared he was going to lash out at her or something.

"Fine." He knew he wasn't making anything easier by his short, clipped answers, but he wasn't expecting to run into her. Truly, he did not know how to act.

She looked around, and Mamoru followed her gaze when it rested on the building to her left. She smiled again, more genuinely this time. "Look where we've ended up again," she said, turning back to him. "Imagine that! Bumping into you at the Crown." She gave a nervous laugh. "I guess not much has changed."

"Everything has changed, Usagi-san." He knew she had caught the double meaning in that when the smile was wiped right off of her face. She looked down, shuffled her feet, and looked back up again.

"I have to go," he said. "Coffee before work."

Usagi nodded. He had barely taken two steps when she called out his name again.

"Mamoru-san!"

He turned around. She was still staring up at him with those big blue eyes, but her face had a bit more urgency to it now.

"I'm leaving," she blurted out. "Tonight."

His chest constricted; he couldn't breathe again. "I thought you were leaving on Sunday," he said in the calmest voice possible. It was only Thursday today.

She shook her head slightly, but she never dropped her searching gaze on his face. "No. My boss … he needs me back by tomorrow, there's an emergency at the department."

"Oh."_Oh, God._ He wanted to beg her to say, beg her not to leave him again, but he couldn't. He knew she wouldn't, she couldn't possibly care about him that much.

"My flight's at midnight. Narita International Airport."

He nodded. Why was she telling him this?

"I was just wondering — if you could —"

"I'm busy tonight." It wasn't a lie either. His shift ended at midnight.

"Oh." That same small, squeaky voice again. She smiled at him again. "Okay. I just thought …" she shook her head. "Never mind. Well, I guess I'll see you then."

_When?_ He wanted to ask her. _Another five years? A decade? _

He nodded again. "Goodbye." Then, without another backwards glance, he slipped in through the sliding doors and was gone.

-

It all happened too quickly that day, the way the sun rose up in the sky, and travelled across the heavens, before colouring the world a heartbreaking orange. Even the pink it left behind, usually a cheerful colour bringing about the day's end, seemed sullen and bleached, as if the life had been drained out of it.

Or maybe it was just Mamoru imagining those things. Maybe Mamoru was just imagining that his coffee was exceptionally bitter that evening, that the walls in the operating room were too grey, that he seemed to have a bit less hope with every life he tried to save.

He couldn't bare to look, let alone talk, to Ami. She was the only female surgeon on the team, and despite her brilliance, today he wished it comprised of only males. So he was a bit startled when, coming in for break, that he saw her packing up.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

She barely glanced at him before going back to her purse. "Airport."

"Why?" he asked, checking the time. It was seven thirty. "Her flight is at midnight."

She did look at him now, piercing him with a cool glance. "She has to check in a couple of hours early. You weren't planning on going at midnight were you?"

It was like a blow, worse than a slap across the cheek, a fist to the gut. He actually had to hold on to the chair to keep himself steady.

"Now? Already?"

He suddenly felt extremely guilty. He hadn't been consciously planning on it, but he knew right then that he _had_ been thinking, wondering what would happen if he raced right to the airport at midnight, catching a last glimpse of her before she left. He had prayed that her flight would get delayed, that she would be there for him to catch, to hold, to beg her to stay. Now he realised the horror of the situation, the recognition that it was far too late. He had foolishly assumed that she would _check in_ at midnight. There was no way he could leave now, no way he could go see her even if he wanted to. Even if he had planned it, it would take a miracle for him to be granted leave, especially with one surgeon gone already.

He didn't hear Ami's response. His head was swimming with the idea that all opportunity was gone. It was destroyed. He felt a cold chill run down his spine and then a hot, twisting unease lurch throughout his body.

_Five years. Another five years._

"Mamoru-san?" Ami was suddenly in front of him. She was really quite pretty, Mamoru realized not for the first time. Her eyes were a clearer shade than his, and she had grown her vivid blue hair until it reached her shoulders. Many of his coworkers had expressed an interest in dating her. Mamoru never could. Never someone who was so close to Usagi.

"Come." Her eyes were warm with sympathy. "We'll ask."

-

It was too much effort to keep the panic at bay, so he just let it overtake him. Ami's quiet presence beside him was not helping.

He_had_ been granted leave, but he had to finish up another surgery before then. They couldn't get another staff member on such short notice, and Mamoru couldn't bring himself to have the woman scheduled die, because of his irresponsibility.

He glanced at the clock again. _Ten forty seven._ They were still a good hour away from the airport. His knuckles were already white from clutching the steering wheel so hard, so he resorted to pressing the gas pedal harder. Ami didn't say a word about his maniacal driving, did not bring attention to the fact that he was faster than double the speed limit.

Each minute going by was agonizingly painful.

"Call Motoki," he almost barked, his voice hoarse. Ami flinched beside him, and he tried to soften his voice. "Stall her. Please."

Ami silently took out her cell phone and speed dialled Motoki. She put the phone on speaker.

There was a lot of static when someone picked up.

"Hello?" The voice was strained.

"Motoki?" Ami said urgently.

"Ami? What the hell —"

"I'm coming with Mamoru."

There was a pause on the other line. "Mamoru's coming?"

Mamoru forced himself to stare right ahead. He pressed down on the pedal a bit more.

"We're about an hour south of the airport, but we're making good time. Is there … any way that you can stop Usagi long enough?"

"Uh …"

"Please Motoki," Mamoru burst out. "_I'm begging you._"

"I'm sorry Mamoru, I can't," Motoki said, deeply apologetically. "Usagi-chan just went in."

-

Out of all the places he could have gone, he chose to go back to the bar. The stupid, ugly night club in the southwest corner of the Azabu district. He had dropped Ami home, first. He couldn't bear going back to work.

Mamoru wore the classic sunglasses, and was crying before he could find an appropriate table. It was pretty stupid, to come out in public just to cry, but he couldn't cry at his apartment. He would always remember that, if he did. He would rather do it in a place he would never come back to.

It wasn't harsh sobs or the melodramatic, heart wrenching form of crying. He never actually _broke down_; it just wore off, like Entropy. It was simply silent tears, but he masked that quite easily by putting his hands over his cheeks. It slipped down his fingers instead and went into his blazer, which was now getting wet and sticky. Nobody noticed, of course.

It was the same bartender working there, and she gave him a tired smile. "Can I get you anything?"

He swallowed a couple of times before answering. "Scotch."

It probably wasn't the best thing to drink alcohol when his mouth was already dry, but maybe he could get himself wasted enough so that he wouldn't remember this day. Maybe it would slip into his unconscious, and he'd forget about everything, about Usagi.

The waitress kindly placed a glass of water in front of him first. He gratefully gulped it down.

He glanced around at the rest of the club. The amount of people in here was considerably less on a Thursday night, but it was fairly crowded nonetheless. He could see their booth a couple of rows back, empty, and silent. Its other light had now gone out too.

He grabbed the scotch the waitress slipped him, and made his way to the booth. He sat in the opposite seat this time, where she had last sat down. Maybe if he sat here long enough, he could absorb some of her energy, some remnants of Usagi that the seat had managed to pin down. He looked around, trying to find something. _Anything._ A strand of hair, a piece of wool from her jacket …

Sighing, he went back to nursing his drink. He hadn't touched it yet. Ironically, he remembered what Usagi's soft reprimands the week before. Maybe … maybe he _shouldn't_ get so drunk after all. He sighed again, and pushed it away.

"Good. I was about to take that away from you."

Startled, he glanced up, removing his sunglasses just to make sure what he saw was not a hallucination.

Usagi didn't sit across from him this time. She gingerly sat at the edge of his seat.

He swallowed once, then twice.

"What are you doing here?" She had to be an illusion. She just _had_ to.

Except, she looked terrible. Her eyes were swollen and red. She looked like she had been crying too.

"I looked _everywhere_ for you!" she practically wailed. "I went to your apartment. I went to the hospital. I went to the _library_ for God's sake!"

The grin that followed was inevitable, of course. "I don't go to the library as much anymore."

"Well maybe you should!" she huffed. "It would have saved me a lot of trouble."

Mamoru couldn't keep his eyes from sweeping across her, from her dishevelled hair to her travel clothes. That caught his attention.

"You missed your flight," Mamoru pointed out.

She sighed. "I did."

"Why?"

She watched him carefully, twisting her hands. "Motoki … said you were coming. I had _just_ gone in, I was going through airport security. I asked if I could turn back … and they said I had gone too far, that they wouldn't let me back in if I backed out now."

"So you just abandoned your flight?"

She shrugged. "There will be other ones."

"Your company will be furious."

She shrugged again. "They'll live."

He hesitated. "You had to have known that … I wouldn't come by then. I had already turned around."

"Oh, I did," she agreed. "That's why I looked for you."

His heart broke. He couldn't take it anymore. Why was she toying with him? What motive did she have?

"Why are you doing this, Usagi?" he demanded. "You just _told_ me that you're in love with somebody else. So why are you acting like this after everything I've told you?"

Now it was Usagi's turn to be startled. "In love with somebody _else_? What are you talking about?"

"That man. You talked about. The one who was from a different lifetime, or whatever it is you said."

To his great astonishment, Usagi blushed the deepest red he had ever seen. He could see her face glowing, despite how dark the booth was. She ducked her head and mumbled something.

"I'm sorry, what?"

She spoke a bit louder, but barely just. "That … that was _you_."

He couldn't have heard properly. It was impossible. "What?" he breathed again.

She was crying when she looked up. "I thought you hated me. You always made fun of me before! And … and I was _convinced_ you hated me last week, because you seemed so furious when you found out it was _me_ you were kissing. I thought you were disgusted or something. Except … well, I just sort of hoped you weren't, when I found out that you were coming today. Please, Mamoru-san, can't we even be friends? I mean, I know it's probably difficult now, since I've told you everything, but it'll only be awkward if —"

She stopped, because his hands reached up and he held her face ever so gently. He pressed his forehead to hers.

"I … was so angry, because I thought you were playing with me. You have to have known the girl I was talking about was you."

She gasped. "That's not possible!"

He choked back tears and couldn't help laughing. "That's what I said."

He kissed her so hard that she squeaked at first. He wrapped both his arms around her and crushed her body to his as best he could. He could taste the saltiness burning on her lips, and wondered if she could tell the same thing.

"So that was me?" she repeated. She leaned her forehead against his again and closed his eyes. "_You're_ not pulling _my_ leg this time?"

Her voice was certainly more classier and mature, but her speech reminded him of old times. "You sound like you're fifteen," he said, grinning. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Yes, that was you."

"Oh." She opened her eyes, and ran her hands across his face, memorizing his cheeks, his nose, his eyes. If she noticed that he had been crying too, she gave no sign of it. "Well then."

She kissed him softly on the lips three times, pulling back before they could properly get started. He stared down at her, annoyed. She laughed.

"I don't think a public place like this is very … _appropriate_for our style of conversation."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Our style?" he repeated.

"Well," Usagi said, tracing circles on his shoulder, "we do have five years of conversation to catch up on."

Mamoru considered this for a minute and then nodded. "I suppose you're right." He got up to move, except with the way they were sitting, Usagi had to get out first. He grabbed a hold of her hand when they were both out of the booth.

"Would it make you terribly uncomfortable to come to my apartment?"

Usagi smiled. "Not at all."

Besides, she doubted that they were actually going to get a lot of talking done that night.


End file.
